


Tom Riddle and the Almond-Shaped Green Eyes

by RakshaGoldenCub



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Riddle at Hogwarts Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RakshaGoldenCub/pseuds/RakshaGoldenCub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a secret. Very few people know the story of Tom Riddle - the boy who would one day grow up to be Lord Voldemort. Even fewer know why. Only one knows how. </p><p>Aberforth Dumbledore has a secret that he'll never share with anyone, except maybe with the small child left on his doorstep five years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tom Riddle and the Almond-Shaped Green Eyes

Somewhere within the depths of London there is a village known as Hogsmeade, which can be found quite easily – if one knows where to look. This town is known for its medieval charm and magical shops. You can visit the Three Broomsticks for delicious butterbeer or Zonko’s Joke Shop for trickery of a magical notion. Or if you are in the mood for treats, you can visit Honeydukes Sweetshop and buy your weight in Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs.  
  
Yet within Hogsmeade, you can find buildings few choose to gather within, unless in search of disreputable business. One such building is the Hog’s Head.  
  
Dirt and grime layered the floors and windows, leaving the building rotted and dark. The only light within the room came from a little girl’s smile. Five-year-old Ariana sat perched upon a stool as she watched her grandfather clear away the last customers of the day. Her bright blue eyes watched every move he made as the sun set lower to the ground and fell behind the rooftops of the neighboring shop.  
  
Her grandfather, Aberforth Dumbledore, had a dark look upon his face – one she had seen all her life as he futilely watched the coming war. It seemed to her that the Great War was a far-off dream, one only talked about in the children’s stories Aberforth told her each night. But to him, the story was coming closer and closer to fruition. Already, his brother had fallen to this war, though Ariana knew nothing of that. If he had his way, the war would just be another fairytale he told her.  
  
While not being blood-related, Aberforth had a strong connection with the little girl he named Ariana. When five years previously he had found her cradle situated outside the Hog’s Head door, he considered it a chance to finally be the proper brother he couldn’t be for his Ariana.  
  
As he finished clearing the last cups from each table in his small pub, Aberforth gave Ariana the same request he did every night: “Wash up.” Knowing that after readying herself for bed she would be given another wizarding story, she followed his request – a pattern they had created together in the five-year span of their relationship.  
  
Once Ariana had cleaned and dressed for sleep, and Aberforth had fed the goats living in the backyard, they found themselves in Ariana’s room, ready for another story time.  
  
The room was as simple as the entire building, with dark matted curtains and a broken dresser; the bed smelt like the goats that lived outside. Ariana didn’t notice these details. Her mind was focused on the question she begged to ask Aberforth.  
  
“Granda,” she began, as he sat down in a stool he had pulled from the pub moments earlier. “Is You-Know-Who real?”  
  
It was a question she asked every night – one her grandfather always refused to answer. Like any night, he stayed silent until she thought of another question he could answer. In attempting to protect her from the battle he felt impartial to, he planned never to answer her questions about the reality of You-Know-Who.  
  
Changing tactics, she asked the other question always on her mind when he told her about this illusionary man. “Was he always bad?”  
  
This, he felt, could be answered. “No,” he explained in his gruff, tired voice. “There was a time when he went to Hogwarts. Was a little orphan boy named Tom Riddle.”  
  
“What changed?” she prompted.  
  
It seemed that there would be a long story to tell her, one that very few knew – one that died with Albus and lived on in him and Rubeus Hagrid. “A girl,” he explained through tight lips. “A girl changed him. A girl with almond-shaped, brilliant, green eyes.  
  
Ariana sat up, perking at the idea of a mysterious new character to dream about.  
  
Aberforth continued. “I once told you the story about Harfang Longbottom and his wife, Callidora Black, yeah? What I never told you was about Harfang’s maid, a muggle who knew about magic, but had none in her family. She—”  
  
“Why was she a maid?” Ariana interrupted in a very worried voice. “Shouldn’t he have house-elves?” Like any five-year-old, any alteration to what she believed to be the only truth astounded her.  
  
“He did have house-elves. He kept the muggle around cause he was responsible for her. He was the one to tell her about magic. So Harfang kept the muggle as one of his maids. Callidora accepted it until she found out the muggle was with child. Harfang was the father.  
  
“The maid was thrown out of the house and begged on the streets in order to take care of her baby. She taught her daughter to hate witches and wizards, even when her daughter showed magical talent. When the girl was old enough and told her mom she wanted to go to Hogwarts, her mother abandoned her.”  
  
Ariana’s eyebrows pinched together in sadness and confusion. “What happened to her?”  
  
“I took her in here. Fed her and bought her school supplies, I did. Sent her off to school, like she always wanted.”  
  
“Like you will for me someday.” The girl clapped excitedly. “Someday when I’m the most powerful witch the world has ever seen.” Aberforth nodded to appease the child.  
  
“But she was different. There was darkness about her. Growing up with that mum of hers did something to her head, yet I sent her to school anyways. She was put into Slytherin, in the same year as Tom Riddle. She was a halfblood and he was an orphan who didn’t know about his family history. Everyone else in Slytherin was pureblood. Naturally, they became close. They were both so charming.”  
  
“Charming like me, Granda?” Ariana asked. Aberforth shook his head.  
  
“No. Their charm was much more sinister. They could read people so well. With one look they could see your wildest dreams and darkest nightmares; they knew what you were afraid of and what you aspired to be. And they used that knowledge effectively.  
  
“Riddle became one of the most endearing students Hogwarts had ever seen. Every teacher was happy to help him in any way they could. As for her, well, she used it to another advantage. She made people hate her. She would see a witch’s fear and scare her – see a wizard’s dream and squash it.”  
  
Ariana frowned, her brow creasing in frustration. “Why would she do that?”  
  
“She was angry. Every witch and wizard she met was to her just another person that caused her mother harm.”  
  
“Then why did she go to school?”  
  
“To become the greatest witch of all time,” Aberforth explained, repeating the words Ariana had said only a few moments earlier.  
  
“Did she? Did she become the greatest witch?” Ariana asked, her blue eyes wide in anticipation.  
  
Aberforth frowned, recalling those years. “No. She died.”  
  
Ariana gasped. “And that’s why Tom Riddle turned into You-Know-Who? Because she died? How romantic!”  
  
Aberforth laughed bitterly. “No,” he explained. “I doubt he would have changed at all if it had been just her death. It was how she died that killed what was left of Tom Riddle.”  
  
“How did she die?”  
  
“That, my dear, is for another night,” he finished, before tucking the whining Ariana into bed.


End file.
